


Frostbite

by Ramabear (RyMagnatar)



Category: Katekyou Hitman Reborn!
Genre: Gen, KHR Rarepair Week, M/M, Mental Instability
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-06-22
Updated: 2020-06-24
Packaged: 2021-03-03 20:54:00
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 5
Words: 7,533
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/24661879
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/RyMagnatar/pseuds/Ramabear
Summary: Some skeletons in the closet aren't skeletons at all.
Relationships: Gokudera Hayato & Sawada Tsunayoshi, Gokudera Hayato/Xanxus
Comments: 19
Kudos: 61
Collections: KHR Rare Pair Week 2020





	1. leaving your mark

**Author's Note:**

  * In response to a prompt by Anonymous in the [KHR_Rare_Pair_Week_2020](https://archiveofourown.org/collections/KHR_Rare_Pair_Week_2020) collection. 



> the beginning part of this is for the khr rarepair week. i'll finish and post the rest of it later.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> please keep in mind i only have the first five chapters of this prepared for the rair pair week. I'll queue the rest of this up later on.

They always tell you that if you want to be somebody, if you want to be remembered, you need to leave your mark on the world. You need to leave something behind that people will see etched into the world around you and will make them remember you forever.

For the first sixteen years of his life Xanxus took that literally. 

As a child, he scratched his initials into the brick and mortar of the streets around him. He cut them low to the ground to use them as markers for himself. He cut them high into the side of walls so that he would be known. He carried a short, sharp chisel with him for protection and also to leave behind his mark. He was Xanxus and he would be known.

As a teenager, found by his father at long last and dropped into a life above the streets, Xanxus took every opportunity he could to leave his mark behind. He wrought destruction in the pursuit of his ambitions- to be known, to be feared, to be powerful, to be respected. He could hollow out entire buildings of all their people, leaving them like open wounds, bloody monuments to his prowess. He continued to leave his signature, carved into wooden walls, into stone floors, splashed in blood upon the ceiling, leaving stains and scars that bore the double X for Xanxus.

Xanxus carved his way through the world, preparing it for the day that he would step into his father’s position and become the Tenth Vongola leader. It didn’t matter that he had three elder brothers. It did not matter that he was not his father’s chosen heir. It was his destiny and everywhere he looked he could see the world had been leading him to this moment. He was only following the path that had been prepared for him.

And then the truth had pressed itself into his hands, into his _mind_ and everything had changed.

Mere months after learning the truth, Xanxus sought to change his fated path back to what had always been. If he could not be given the role that he knew was his, he would take it. If he had to tear down the entire building and leave it as a scar upon the earth he would. He was Xanxus and this was his destiny.

But with the blood and battle, there was betrayal and burning ice. Under Timoteo’s sorrowful gaze, Xanxus’s last grasp for the future he had built up through his every action slipped free of his influence.

Surrounded by ice, unable to breathe, to move or feel, Xanxus could only stare straight ahead, unblinking. His world was a silent blur of colors moving periodically in front of him; images distorted by the ice in front of his eyes. His world was contained entirely within his own mind and he was left there, frozen, thinking.

And he did nothing else.


	2. funerals and sons

The hair on the back of Tsuna’s neck stands on end as Timoteo presses his thumb into the small digital pad beside the otherwise unassuming plain door. They’re alone here, several floors below the basement of the Vongola residence. This level doesn't even exist on Tsuna’s super-secret private elevator. Timoteo had to put a key into a lock beneath the panel on the elevator to get it to go to this level, and that was when Tsuna’s nerves had started to jangle in alarm.

The door that Timoteo opens is one of two down here. The last time Timoteo brought him down here, it was to show him the other room, which had also been locked with a thumbprint, and had revealed a repository of very old, very priceless information and artifacts passed down from all the previous Vongola leaders.

The only thing Timoteo has said about what is behind this door is that it contains his greatest regret.

The first thing that Tsuna notices about the room that they step into is how cool it is.

Timoteo presses his hand against a panel on the wall, and the lights on the room slowly increase from total darkness into a bright light. He ushers Tsuna into the room and closes the door behind him.

Tsuna walks in three steps and stops there, staring at the only thing in this cold, cold room.

It’s a jagged block of ice.

There is a person inside.

“What...is this?” Tsuna asked. 

Timoteo moves to stand at his side, hands clasped behind his back. He sighs heavily. “There once was a boy with incredibly strong sky flames that carried just a hint of the storm in them. His mother was desperate to have him taken care of as her health was failing, and she knew, as all mothers know, that her son would fall into great tragedy if he were not raised well.

“I took in this boy,” Timoteo said, “and raised him as my son. His name was Xanxus. I brought him out of squalor. I taught him how to be a good leader. A good man.” 

Timoteo sighed again.

“Or at least I thought I had.”

“What happened?” Tsuna cannot look away from the ice. If he turns his head slightly, he can see the reflections of orange on the otherwise clear surface. He knows that the room is not cold enough to keep a solid block of ice from melting. For one, they’re not wearing any sort of winter weather clothing, and they’re standing here in this enclosed room. For another, he can’t see his breath, and there is no frost on the walls. The ice is ice, but it is not regular ice.

“He became a very skilled assassin,” Timoteo said with a strange sort of bitterness. “He and an associate of his rose to the top ranks of the Varia and then, ultimately, took it over from the previous leader. I allowed this because I thought it would be good for him to lead these people. It would give him something to do because I knew what he wanted he could not have. He could never have.”

Tsuna said nothing. The longer he stared at the man in the ice, the more details he could make out. A gun floated in the ice beside one partially closed hand. His clothing was dark, torn in some places. His eyes were open wide; shock etched in his face.

“He thought because I had taken him into my home, because I had chosen to house him here in the manor, to give him a room of his own, an education for his flames and his mind, because I allowed him a seat at my family’s table, he _was_ my son in truth.” Timoteo shook his head, speaking slowly, words full of grief, “But he was only _like_ my son. I did not understand that _he_ did not understand that. And when he found out the truth it… It did not end well.”

Tsuna can hear Reborn’s voice in his head, the scathing _Well clearly it didn’t,_ that makes him lock up for a second because he’s sure Reborn didn’t follow them down here. He wasn’t even in Italy right now. But Tsuna can’t help but lean on that voice in his head. It helped when he didn’t know what to say in times like these, where his tongue felt glued to the roof of his mouth.

Luckily, Timoteo doesn’t seem to need any prompting to continue speaking, “He staged a coup. Or perhaps it was to be a culling. Either way, he and a select group of his Varia associates stormed the manor and killed everyone they found there. He came for me to kill me because he felt as though I had lied to him for years. He was much stronger than I had been aware of at the time. He had grown so much within the Varia, and I know he could have become even stronger given time, but he was too twisted up in this misunderstanding in this anger of his.

“He came to kill me and take my place or to force my hand and make me kill him. I chose instead to…” He gestured towards the ice with one hand, “Though I know the truth. He is dead inside of there. There is nothing left but a well-preserved body that one day will need to be disposed. I have just been… incapable of doing so. I raised and buried three sons. I did not want to have to do the same for this boy who was like a son to me.”

Tsuna said nothing once Timoteo went quiet. He took slow steps forward until he was right in front of the ice, right in front of the face frozen there. Eyes open. Mouth open. A youthful face. Tsuna swallowed. _How old was he?_ He wanted to ask, _Why didn’t you just talk to him? Why did it have to end like this?_

“Why are you telling me this?” is the question that came out of his mouth as he turned towards Timoteo.

The elderly man looked at him, his face as worn and weathered as Tsuna had ever seen it. 

“You will inherit my position at the end of this year,” Timoteo said, “And with all the responsibilities of being the head of the Vongola, you will need to keep all of its skeletons as well.

“Xanxus is my skeleton,” Timoteo said, looking up at the ice behind Tsuna. “My regret. I should have never brought him home as my son. All the blood he has spilled is upon my hands, and I can never atone for these things.”

Tsuna swallowed the lump in his throat. Timoteo had shown him what the other Vongola leaders had left behind. In these last months where Timoteo had Tsuna shadow him during the day in preparation of becoming the boss- a ceremony for what was already long since decided- Tsuna had seen worse things than Reborn had ever hinted to while training him as a boy.

But the ice behind his back was one of the worst by far.

“You will periodically need to come and check on the ice,” Timoteo said, lowering his gaze from the ice and staring at Tsuna again, “It begins to thaw over time. I only ask that you wait until I have passed to melt the ice fully. I do not want to see my last boy lowered into the ground before me. Will you do this for me, Tsuna?”

Tsuna nodded wordlessly. 

Timoteo smiled, “Thank you. You are too kind to this old man. Especially after all else that I have asked you to do.”

Tsuna said nothing to that. He didn’t know what to say at all. 

The ice at his back was almost warm.

All Tsuna could think was that skeletons weren’t supposed to feel warm.

* * *

As Timoteo’s casket lowered into the ground, Hayato steps closer to Tsuna’s side, hand resting on his shoulder. He squeezed gently, in case Tsuna had gotten so caught up in his thoughts he didn’t realize that Hayato was there anymore.

They were mostly alone, except for the men lowering the casket and a few of the other guardians standing twenty or thirty feet back and Reborn, who was on Tsuna’s left side. 

Reborn finally put on his hat with a sigh and turned away at the sound of the wood settling on soft earth below. He patted Tsuna’s other shoulder and then walked off in silence.

Hayato squeezed Tsuna’s shoulder again. The workers began to lower dirt into the hole. 

“Tenth,” Hayato murmured, “It’s time to go.”

Tsuna nodded but didn’t move. 

Hayato gave a worried look towards Takeshi, who stood about thirty feet back, one hand resting on the hilt of his katana, waiting in silence. Tsuna and Takeshi had argued about whether or not he should carry the weapon with him, but Takeshi wouldn’t budge about it. When Reborn had agreed with it being the smart choice, Tsuna had capitulated.

Hayato’s own jacket had a half dozen explosives in it, but he always had a half dozen explosives on him at every possible moment. It was almost like a security blanket by this point, after everything they’d gone through.

“We need to buy another plot here,” Tsuna said quietly. 

Hayato turned quickly back to him. “What?”

“We need to buy another plot here. Not too far from Timoteo, but...maybe not so close either.”

“Tenth, why-”

“His fourth son,” Tsuna said, “We have to bury his fourth son.”

Then he turned away and walked off, leaving the stunned Hayato gaping after him for a few seconds before he managed to shake it off and hurry after him. “His _what?”_


	3. thawing out

Hayato shoots Tsuna a nervous look when he opens the panel in the elevator, takes out one of his many keys and slides it into a lock, and turns it. He presses the down button, holding it until the lightbox above the door shifts from B1 to SUBB. Tsuna’s expression is as flat as it had been when he’d received the news that Timoteo had passed away- peacefully in his sleep, the way that many older men dreamed of going, or so Reborn had said at the time. Hayato says nothing because he doesn’t know what to say.

The elevator doors open up, and they step out to a small room with two doors. Tsuna ignores the door on the left and goes immediately for the one on the right. He presses his thumb to the scanner there, and Hayato hears the door lock pop. Then Tsuna stands there, one hand on the handle, not moving.

“Tenth?” Hayato said quietly, “What is it?”

Tsuna shook himself, gave Hayato a look over his shoulder that was quite honestly frightening, and stepped into the room. Hayato followed without hesitation.

Tsuna touched something on the wall, and the room began to light up. It was chilly in here, but they were still in their suits from the funeral, and the jacket kept him plenty warm as he walked into the slowly lighting room. Colors reflected strangely onto the wall as the lights fully turned on, and for a second, Hayato thought that this was a damn peculiar place to keep an ice sculpture.

And then he saw the man _inside_ of the ice.

Hayato scrambled backward, bumped into Tsuna, and froze up. Tsuna gripped his arm tightly and said, “This is Xanxus. Timoteo’s fourth son.”

“I- I thought he only had three,” Hayato said.

“He was adopted,” Tsuna said.

“Oh,” Hayato blinked. “But why is he- Why is he here?”

“Xanxus staged a coup, and Timoteo froze him to stop him. He- He asked me to melt the ice and bury his body after he died. So he wouldn’t have to bury any more of his sons.” Tsuna slowly walked forward to the ice. “He’s been sitting here, waiting to be buried for years.”

“Oh God,” Hayato whispered, “That’s- The ice must have prevented him from rotting but still- Storing a body like this-.” He shuddered, “How long has he been down here?”

“Years,” Tsuna said, “After Timoteo gave me full control of the Vongola, I came across a record of something called the Cradle Affair. That was the coup that Xanxus attempted.” He glanced at Hayato and added quietly, “It happened when we were about six.”

Hayato gaped at him. “Six? But- Tenth- We’re- That’s- _Oh God.”_ Hayato’s gaze moved back to the man in the ice. 

“I know,” Tsuna said. “That was twenty-four years ago.” He stood in front of the ice, one hand extended upwards, reaching for the man’s frozen face. “Twenty-four years, frozen in death. And now we can finally put him to rest.”

Hayato swallowed. “Are you going to unmelt him now?”

“I think it’s time to,” Tsuna said without turning around. “He’s been waiting a long time. Too long, I think. And I’ve been thinking about it for so long. Even after I promised Timoteo to wait, I… thought about it every day. I thought I should just unfreeze him and bury him in secret. There was no reason Timoteo had to find out, but I- Even up until the end, people would whisper secrets to him, I know they were. He would have found out I had broken my promise, and I couldn’t do that to him.”

“Shouldn’t we get something to put him in first? A bag or something? You don’t want anyone to come down here, right?”

“We’ll carry him out together,” Tsuna said as he pressed his palm against the ice. There was a ripple of orange flame, soft and flickering, around his hand. “It won’t be the first time we smuggled a body out in an elevator, right, Hayato?” Tsuna gave him one quick glance over his shoulder, smiling cheekily but with sadness darkening his eyes.

“Right,” Hayato said. He came up to stand beside Tsuna, to support him. “You unmelt him. I’ll catch him. We’ll take care of him properly.”

Tsuna nodded and turned his attention back to the ice. The flame on his hand grew brighter and bolder. It didn’t take much longer before the ice started to react. The surface of it became glossy, slick with rivulets of icemelt, and then all at once, it began to evaporate away, water trickling down in streams as the rest of it vanished into a cloud of moisture. Hayato waited, watching as the ice grew thinner and thinner.

Some part of him, in the back of his mind, gave a cynical sort of laugh at how readily he was willing to handle a dead body. Barely thirty and he’d been around so many corpses that handling another one wasn’t a big deal- even if it was a twenty-plus-year-old body. 

He just privately hoped that it wouldn’t do something horrible like turn to rot as soon as Tsuna unmelted it, and he’d be left holding a goopy pile of bones.

Tsuna’s flames curled over the surface of the ice, and he gave a soft grunt of effort, pressing the orange flames in deeper. The orange glint to the ice took on a flickering effect as they lit up from within. Fractures suddenly appeared in the ice, along the lines of the body’s arms and legs. 

Hayato edged closer, ready to catch body parts if they began to separate from the torso. First, the left arm came loose, swinging from its position half upraised to hang by the body’s side. The gun frozen beside his hand clattered to the ground, unheeded. The left shoulder and left upper leg followed, causing the arm to swing again and the body to lean towards one side. Abruptly, the ice fractured along the right side, one massive crack spider webbing outwards and splintering until it fell away and began to turn to vapor. A second gun went clattering as the right swung down to the side.

Tsuna concentrated his flames around the ice that remained around the head and shoulders. Hayato reached forward, one hand already resting against the left exposed hip, waiting for gravity to take over once the ice had lost its grip. Another crack split down the center of the ice in front of the face, and Hayato thought he heard something like sucking air. He reached up with his other hand, resting it against the right side. The body had begun to sag forward, slowly moving under Hayato’s touch.

The ice around the head split apart. Hayato winced and drew back his head, narrowly missing getting smacked in the face with the ice. Pieces of it hit his arms and bounced away, but he ignored that, stepping forward as Tsuna went to the side.

He caught the body as it fell forward, head lolling, torso and arms limp, knees bending, legs pulling against the ice that still held his feet. Hayato grunted at the heavy weight, cold and wet and more substantial than he’d somehow expected. He’d handled more than his fair share of dead weight and this one seemed particularly unwieldy for some reason.

And then the chest rose in his arms. A great sucking breath of air filled his lungs.

And he started to scream.

Hayato stood frozen, holding the screaming body- the screaming man- the screaming _boy_ in his arms, his mind sliding through a dozen realizations all at once. Tsuna knelt at his side, flames working on releasing his feet while Hayato just cradled the boy against himself. 

He didn’t kick or flail. His screaming had no words in it. He didn’t move except to breathe in air and let it out again in a scream that filled the whole room, filled Hayato’s head and heart, filled his eyes with tears in sympathetic grief. His vision blurred, and Hayato blinked to see despite the tears.

When the boy’s feet were finally free, Hayato staggered back and away from the remains of the ice. He sank to his knees, holding the boy in his arms.

No. Not just the boy. He wasn’t nameless. He was Xanxus. 

Hayato pulled Xanxus closer, letting him scream into his shoulder so he could speak to him in those moments where he panted desperately for breath, the echoes of his scream still ringing in the air.

“You’re all right now, Xanxus,” Hayato whispered, “You’re safe now. I’ve got you and I’m not letting go. You’re safe with me, Xanxus. It’s all right now.” Over and over and over until the panting, near-silent intervals between the screaming became longer than the screaming itself.

Tsuna knelt beside Hayato, one hand resting on the middle of Xanxus’s back, his expression dark. Hayato met his gaze, saw the tracks his tears had left down his cheeks, and knew instinctively what he was thinking.

It was a damn good thing Timoteo was already dead.

Good for Timoteo, at least.

Hayato expected the screaming to taper into crying; if not full-blown weeping than at least the hard, painful kind of crying that sometimes happened, but Xanxus did not cry.

He eventually stopped screaming as well and simply lay in Hayato’s arms. One hand held a fistful of Hayato’s shirt and his tie, the other listless at his side. He breathed his cheek on Hayato’s shoulder, his breath hot on his neck. Hayato continued to stroke his hair and murmur to him.

He only stopped when Tsuna put his hand on top of Hayato’s.

“Come on,” Tsuna said, “He’s spent enough time in this fucking room. It’s time to leave here.”

Xanxus’s loose arm suddenly pulled up and he slung it around Hayato’s middle, clinging to him with a desperation that made Hayato have to blink sharply a few times. Without dislodging him too much, Hayato managed to get the both of them to their feet. Tsuna helped support them both and guided them shuffling back to the door and out of the room.

Once they were in the elevator, Tsuna broke away to push the buttons and then stepped back close again. Hayato leaned in the corner, using the walls to support his and Xanxus’s weight.

“What are we going to do?” Hayato asked.

“I’m going to find out who knew about this,” Tsuna said, “And _talk_ to them about it.” His hands were fists at his sides, and he had his head turned away from Hayato, but his tone of voice, hard and low, was enough to hint at what kind of talk these would be. 

“That’s great, but what the fuck are we going to do with him?” Hayato hissed. “It’s been- It’s been a long time since he went into that ice. We- What the fuck do we do?”

“He’s Vongola,” Tsuna said firmly. “He’s one of ours, and we’ll take care of him. Get him warmed up and give him clothes and a room and anything he asks for, within reason. And a therapist. Come on, Hayato, think it through and figure it out.”

Hayato _was_ thinking it through, and, unfortunately, one of his thoughts was how thoroughly broken Xanxus had to be and if it would be kinder to do what Timoteo hadn’t been able to do. But even as he thought that he knew that neither of them could do it. Maybe if Reborn was here- Reborn could be merciful that way but not them.

Hayato tightened his grip around Xanxus, pulling him closer. Xanxus trembled in his arms, face still hidden against Hayato’s shoulder, fingers still digging into him. 

Tsuna looked at them then, a weird smile on his lips, “You might want to make sure his room is near yours because unless something changes soon, I have a feeling you’re his new favorite.”

“You’re the one who got him out of the ice,” Hayato grumbled but only halfheartedly. 

“And yet he’s your barnacle.”

Hayato huffed in annoyance. Great. More to add to his workload. As if he needed to play nursemaid to some poor traumatized kid on top of everything else. “Whatever information we have on him, I need asap.”

“Obviously,” Tsuna said, “You’ll have whatever you need to help him…” his voice trailed off, eyes staring at Xanxus. “Reborn would kick me for being this optimistic but whatever you need to make him better. Just ask and it’s yours.”

“Yes, Tenth,” Hayato said. Then he sucked in a sharp breath as Xanxus’s grip strength suddenly increased. The arm that was around his back turned stiff, and his fingers dug into Hayato’s side with a biting pain. His ragged panting started up again after it had mostly smoothed out, and he turned his head slightly. Hayato couldn’t see his face but could imagine what a wild look it must be to get Tsuna to sober up and look at him the way that he did.

Tsuna met Xanxus’s gaze with his own, the orange light flickering in the back of his eyes. “I know you wanted this position, Xanxus,” he said quietly, “And I know Timoteo took every chance to it that you thought you had, but the truth is if he was not your father in blood you could never have become the Vongola Decimo anyway.” 

He lifted his hand and showed Xanxus the ring on his finger, “This requires Vongola blood to wear. This is the ring of the Vongola leader; no one else can lead the family except the one that wears this ring. That’s just the way it is. I’m sorry.”

“Don’t.” Xanxus’s voice was rough, broken. It sounded like the voice of someone who had just spent an hour or more screaming his head off. “Don’t. Pity. Me.”

Tsuna’s expression softened, and he lowered his hand. “I’m sorry,” he said, “I’ll work on that.”

Xanxus’s face turned again, and his arm relaxed around Hayato. Hayato ran a comforting hand through his dark hair and sighed. 

Tsuna looked away.


	4. not-squalo

_he’s not Squalo_ ** _I know that I know he’s not Squalo_** _he’s not Squalo how can you trust him?_ **oh but he is so warm isn’t he just so warm** _you can’t just trust him because he is warm he will kill you he smells of explosives_ ** _I know that I know what he smells like_** **he smells so good doesn’t he? and he is so warm you could bury yourself in his bones and never be cold again** _he will boil down your fat and use you to kill and destroy_ ** _he doesn’t need to kill me to get me to kill I’ll gladly kill already_**

“This is your room, Xanxus.” 

Not-Squalo’s voice cuts through the thoughts for the moment, every layer of them falling silent as he peers out from around his shoulder. The Vongola Tenth called him something, called him by name at some point, but Xanxus wasn’t listening, and though part of him heard it the rest of him can’t remember it.

It’s a room. It looks like the rooms from his memories but different.

_that’s because this room is real you can touch these things if you wanted to_ **_I know that I can see that_** **there is so much in this room this is our room? he gave us this room? he is both warm and kind and i never want to leave him** **_he is our babysitter the vongola said so_ **_we should kill him_

The man who holds onto him, who is warm and smells of cigarettes and nitroglycerin, who is Not-Squalo leads him further into the room. He points out things to Xanxus, not things like the couch or table as Xanxus is not an idiot and Not-Squalo is aware of that at least, but other things. This is the light switch panel that adjusts in various ways. This is where the door to Xanxus’s bathroom is. This is the intercom to summon the staff. This window overlooks the atrium where Xanxus can go when he needs to be outside. Here is the door to the bedroom with the bedroom inside.

There are some clothes laid out for Xanxus - _hideous_ **I don’t like them** **_they’re just clothes_ **\- and a closet to one side and another door to the bathroom on the other. There is a mirror in this room, tucked into the corner and it is not something that Not-Squalo points out but Xanxus sees it immediately and goes to it.

He does not let go of Not-Squalo to do this, but Not-Squalo does not resist being dragged along to stand in front of the mirror with him. 

Xanxus is half behind Not-Squalo, staring at himself just over the man’s shoulder. Not-Squalo does not have the same eyes as Squalo and his hair, yes his hair is similar but different and while Xanxus would like to see it long he thinks - _bad idea_ **bad idea** **_bad idea-_ ** that that would be a bad idea. He moves closer up behind Not-Squalo, sliding his hand over his waist and half up his chest so he can feel the flex of rib bones as Not-Squalo breathes. There is an expression of patience on his face as he watches Xanxus in the mirror and Xanxus - _take it_ **break it** **_oh-_ **doesn’t know exactly how he feels about that look. It’s not full of pity, which the Vongola had in spades, which was not tolerable. 

There is something on Xanxus’s face and he slowly moves out from behind Not-Squalo to see his face more clearly. He knows what he should look like. _This is not my face_ **_is this not my face?_ ** **what happened to my face?** And what he sees in the mirror is wrong. 

Not-Squalo leads him closer to the mirror and Xanxus allows this until they’re close enough that he can see what is wrong with his face.

It is scarred. Marked. Blotchy. The ice has not melted without consequence. **_What do you think of my face now, Squalo?_ **Xanxus turns his cheek to the mirror. He touches the mark. It feels a little rougher than the rest of his skin and he does not like it.

A horror crawls through him. _Is there more of this?_ **_how did this happen?_ ** **take it off take it all off take it off take it off!** And he pulls back from Not-Squalo just enough to start pulling at his clothes. His breathing hurts his throat and mouth and his hands shake and they will not listen _make them listen_ **_why don’t they work right-_ **

Not-Squalo turns and his hands are quick. Rings flash on his fingers, more than just the Vongola ring, and he peels off the wet jacket Xanxus wears and helps him out of his shirt and though he hesitates on Xanxus’s pants, Xanxus does not. He shucks them with the same mad urgency that makes him pull everything off until he stands completely bare in front of the mirror with Not-Squalo standing in the background, watching his face.

There are marks all over. Scars. All over. They cover the scars he garnered in battles and fights that actually meant something to him. One of them cuts through the tattoo he got to commemorate his rise in the Varia. Another tattoo is obliterated, leaving only the curl of a wave and a memory of Squalo. Xanxus steps forward until his hands rest on the smooth surface of the mirror. 

They slide to the edges of the mirror and Xanxus stares into his own eyes. They are the color of the flames in the ice and a sickening thought rises up through him - _tear them out_ **tear them out** **_tear them out-_ **and it makes his stomach heave, his breath catch, bile rise in his throat as he bends forward instinctively. His forehead touches the mirror. It is cool.

Xanxus jerks his head back and, screaming with rage, slams his forehead back into the mirror and shatters it.


	5. intensity of a ghost

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> this'll be the last chapter for a while, but I'll get back to this one as I work through my backlog

Hayato’s glad that they were in Xanxus’s bedroom and not, say the front room where the window is open to the atrium, but he knows that scream was heard despite the fact it was brief and in a back room. It means he has a few seconds, at least, to pull Xanxus away from the mirror and all the broken bits of glass. He can’t help but curse under his breath as he half drags Xanxus to sit against his bed. This will be fun to explain to Tsuna- how the hell was he supposed to know the mirror would be some sort of trigger for Xanxus? It’s not exactly like Hayato has seen anyone with this kind of trauma before-

“Don’t you touch that,” Hayato scolded, swatting Xanxus’s hands away from his face. He’s not screaming anymore, which is good, but his expression is distant and unfocused and that’s probably _not good._ Hayato looks over the cut but other than a few shards, it’s not terrible looking. It’s bloody as hell but that’s because it’s a head wound. 

“You sit right here,” Hayato said, “and do not move an inch closer to that,” he pointed to the broken mirror, “while I get a bandage for your dumb ass.”

Xanxus blinked at him and didn’t scream or try to go back to the mirror so Hayato figures he’s at least heard him and he gets to his feet. He hurries into the bathroom, muttering about having to either black out or remove the mirrors in there somehow, and to maybe redecorate a few of the common spaces to move mirrors out for a bit, and finds the first aid kit in the bathroom. He gathers it up and hurries back.

Xanxus is sitting right where he left him. He hasn’t moved an inch, just as Hayato instructed, but his eyes are sharp and watching him as Hayato comes back over to his side and kneels down. 

“I’m sure you know how this will feel,” Hayato said, “It’s alcohol to sanitize the wound and then I’ll cover it up. You don’t need stitches but don’t you fucking do that again, all right? If you want to break a mirror you do it like everyone else and you grab something heavy and throw it at it. Don’t fucking injure your own body when you throw a tantrum.” The scolding is automatic and while Hayato’s not sure if it’s the best technique he hasn’t exactly had a chance to read a single fucking book about what the hell to do- or talked to anyone about it either. Only Tsuna knows right now, though he said he’d be telling the others for Hayato in this case.

Hayato’s job is to get Xanxus settled in.

Xanxus watches, silently, as Hayato cleans and covers the wound. He looks somehow younger with a big white bandage in the middle of his forehead and that makes Hayato’s heart clench awfully. Tsuna wasn’t sure how old Xanxus was but they can both tell he’s not some twenty-something. He’s too gangly for that, too baby-faced even with the scarring. 

“There,” Hayato said. He closed the first aid box. “Now how do you feel about getting dressed?”

Before Xanxus can say a word, there’s someone banging on the door to his outer room. Hayato groaned and put his face in his hand. “It’s because they care, Hayato, it’s because they care. Goddamnit Tsuna, can’t you just keep them off my back for a few more hours?”

He goes still when he feels Xanxus’s hand on top of his. Slowly, Hayato lifts his head up. Xanxus has leaned in close to him and there’s an edge to his eyes that makes Hayato’s stomach clench.

“I’ll kill them for you,” Xanxus whispered. There is nothing but a dreadful seriousness in his eyes. Hayato doesn’t doubt that look for a second.

“I appreciate the offer,” Hayato said dryly, “But unfortunately I need these ones alive. Why don’t you put on some dry clothes while I soothe the angry mob. Can you do that for me?”

“I can,” Xanxus said.

“And stay out of the mirror glass too,” Hayato added as he got to his feet. Xanxus gave him a sideways look at that, but nodded. 

Hayato strode out of the bedroom and into the front room at the same time that the lock turned from the other side. He could hear commotion, clear as day and took a breath just as the door swung open.

Catching the door in one hand, Hayato shouted, “What the fuck do you think you all are doing?”

Lambo and Takeshi, unsurprisingly, are at the head of the pack, with Ryohei and Kyoko and Hana behind them by a few feet. Haru is the one at the door’s side, hands now behind her back but Hayato’s seen her work enough to know she’s the one who picked the lock.

“We heard a scream, Octopus head!” Lambo countered, pointing at him, “We had to check it out and see if the room was haunted!”

“Haunted- Are you fucking kidding me,” Hayato glared at Lambo, “Why the hell would this room be haunted?”

“Eh? Why not!? It’s a big house and people die in it sometimes!” Lambo said, “And dead people leave ghosts!”

“And this room next to yours has always been empty,” Takeshi added with a bit of a smile, “And you respect ghosts. It makes perfect sense.”

“You’re a moron,” Hayato said to Takeshi. “And all of you are enabling this idiocy.” He glared at the rest of the gathering, “There is no ghost. Go away.”

“If there’s no ghost then who is that?” Haru asked, pointing past Hayato.

Hayato didn’t even look. “There’s no one there.”

“There’s definitely someone there,” Lambo said, now trying to squeeze past him. Hayato brought up his knee to block him and started to push the door shut. 

“No there isn’t.”

“I can totally see him!” Lambo shouted. “He’s right there!”

“There’s no one there,” Hayato said.

“So is he a ghost then?” Takeshi asked. He leaned his shoulder against the door and started to press against it. Hayato grunted. Damn Takeshi and his damn stupid strength.

“It’s not anyone’s business but mine and Tsuna’s right now,” Hayato said. “So fuck off and let me take care of this.”

“He’s awfully young, isn’t he? And he looks like that picture in the hall of the Second,” Haru said, “Is he an illegitimate heir or something?”

Hayato felt the atmosphere of the room change the instant that those words left Haru’s mouth and he didn’t even have to see their shocked expressions to confirm it. There was always a sort of pressure that sky flames exuded when they were released in an enclosed room. Though he felt that heat now there was something heavier to it. Some sort of extra weight on the ribs, some additional pressure on the lungs that kept him from breathing properly. 

Ryohei grabbed Lambo by the shoulder and pulled him back at the same moment Haru ducked out of sight and Takeshi’s hand went to the hilt of his katana. 

“I said I’m taking care of this,” Hayato panted out and then he shoved at the door. Takeshi had moved enough that he got a good few inches before they could stop him but Hayato was quickly losing ground again now that Ryohei was pushing against him.

“This is extremely bad news!” Ryohei grunted as he put his shoulder to the door. Hayato’s feet began to slide, “You should not be alone with this individual, Hayato!”

“What the hell is up with those flames?” He couldn’t see Hana anymore, but her voice was still clear enough.

Hayato glanced over his shoulder.

Xanxus stood a few feet away, wearing the clothes that had been laid out on the bed, with his head and shoulders wreathed in sky flames with a dark red center. _Storm flames,_ Hayato recognized instantly. And in the same moment he remembered why that was so important. _The Flames of Wrath. The Secundo used them exclusively._

_No wonder Timoteo told Xanxus he was his son. He’s got the Second’s flames._

Except what little Hayato had read about the Second hadn’t said how much red was in the center of those flames. He had a feeling it wasn’t _this_ much.

Distracted by looking, Hayato lost more ground on the door situation. The knob also caught him in the side which made him grunt in pain because _fuck, ow, that’s going to bruise._ Damn Ryohei and his stupid strength-

There was a shout and a flicker of movement in the corner of Hayato’s eye and then Xanxus was there, behind him, close as he had been when they stood at the mirror. He pressed his shoulder to the door and pushed, the wrath flames flickered across his body and then sank into his skin, except for his shoulder and hand that were against the door. Hayato threw his shoulder into the shove with Xanxus.

And the door began to slide shut.

“Hayato!” Takeshi shouted, “Don’t you fucking do this!”

“Go pester Tsuna if you don’t like it!” Hayato shouted, “We already agreed I’m helping this kid out so you just need to fall in line, Takeshi. All of you need to. Tsuna’s the boss and he made the decision.”

The door clicked shut. Hayato immediately locked it, even though he knew Haru would just pick it again if she wanted to.

There was whispering and then a moment of silence and then Kyoko’s voice through the wood, “Do you need anything, Hayato? Can we help at all?”

Hayato hesitated. He was still up against the door, suddenly realizing that Xanxus had one arm around him again, was effectively holding him in place but he couldn’t focus on that right now. What did he need to help Xanxus? What did Xanxus need to get better?

“Find me a really good therapist,” Hayato said, “One you would trust with Tsuna’s safety if you had to. The best fucking therapist, Kyoko. I don’t care how much it costs but we need one for this kid okay?”

“Okay,” she said, “I will.”

Hayato closed his eyes and sighed. That was one less worry for him. 

He leaned his ear up against the wood. He could hear them whispering again but not what about. Then the noises got fainter and fainter and finally vanished. Hayato sighed again, more heavily this time. 

“Come on Tsuna,” he muttered to himself, “Figure out what you’re going to tell them and do it already.”

“Hayato.”

Hayato jolted and turned. Or rather he tried to turn but Xanxus was there along his back and in the way. So Hayato shifted enough to look at him and then gave him a smile. “That’s me.”

The flames were long gone by now so there was nothing to distract Hayato from Xanxus’s expression, clouded over with something that looked as painful as those screams he’d let out before. “Not Squalo,” he said quietly. “You’re Hayato.”

“Right,” Hayato nodded, his smile fading. “Who is Squalo? Maybe we could find him and-” he immediately stopped as Xanxus’s eyes welled with tears. 

Before Hayato could think of something else to say, Xanxus’s knees gave out and suddenly he had to catch him and hold all his weight or let Xanxus fall. Hayato quickly grabbed him and pulled him close. 

“Come on,” Hayato said quietly, “It’s been a long day for you already. How about we get you settled on the bed and I’ll call the kitchens and have them send up some food and then we’ll talk if you feel like it, okay?”

“Hayato,” Xanxus said again, eyes squeezed shut and fingers twisted in Hayato’s shirt again.

“Yes, Xanxus?”

But Xanxus simply shook his head and went silent. Hayato lingered by the door a moment longer, waiting to see if he’d say anything else but after a minute or two it became clear he wasn’t interested in talking. Hayato sighed gently and began to lead him back to the bedroom. 

Hopefully he could get Xanxus to rest so he could clean up the mirror mess, get his clothing sent to laundry and change into something more comfortable himself. And eat. Maybe. If his stomach could unknot itself for long enough.


End file.
